


When Hope is Not Dead

by Ljparis, rainydayadvocate



Series: Starflowers & Scoundrels [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alderaan, Coruscant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Movie: Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-08-24 16:46:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16643981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ljparis/pseuds/Ljparis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainydayadvocate/pseuds/rainydayadvocate
Summary: The queen and viceroy of Alderaan, together on Coruscant, in the moments after the Republic falls and the Empire rises.





	When Hope is Not Dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skatzaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatzaa/gifts).



A thousand thoughts were racing through Bail Organa's mind at once as he made his way back from the Senate to the Alderaanian consulate, where he knew his wife was waiting. She had surely been watching the live holo feed, and he wanted to get back to her as quickly as possible, before next steps were considered and put to task.

He breezed past all of the security checkpoints and paced in the lift up to the top, to the Alderaanian royal apartments. When the lift doors slid open, he didn't even blink when he found Breha only a few steps away. The moment he stepped out, she was in his arms.

Breha spent the twenty minutes after the Senate broadcast watching the news holo, taking in the chaos. So many passivists were thrilled that the war had come to an end. Others raged that their great Republic had become an Empire without their consent. 

Breha was, naturally, in the latter group, but she couldn’t voice it. Now now. Not yet.

When Bail swept through the doors, she naturally clung to him, slipping her arms around his soft robes, resting against his chest.

His heart pounded erratically and she splayed a calming hand over his back. Though she worried for Alderaan and the galaxy as a whole, in that moment, she worried a great deal more for her husband. “Are you okay, love?”

He threaded his fingers into the hair at the side of her head, just beyond her jaw, the only place where it wasn't twisted or braided, and pressed his cheek against her temple. He breathed her in. "I'm fine," he told her, even though those two words were hardly enough to encapsulate everything that just happened. 

Something about Bail’s hands in her hair electrified her very being from head to toe. She could feel the hair on her arms standing on end under her sleeves. She leaned into the touch, enjoyed the quiet moment with her husband.

Bail held her for another moment before taking both of her hands in his and leading her over to the sofa, where the news on the holo flickered at his back. "Have you heard anything from Alderaan yet?"

Breha leaned against him, closed her eyes. At his question, she looked up at him, shaking her head. “Not really. The palace contacted me wanting a statement, but I wasn’t ready to make one yet. I should do it in person anyway. We have a few hours. It’s the middle of the night in Aldera.”

He nodded, having not considered that time adjustment in the moment. "Of course," Bail murmured, "you're right. I -" He stopped, wanting to tell her that he'd go with her, but he wasn't sure if he could. "I might have to remain back here," he continued on quietly. He leaned his forehead against hers and ran his thumb lightly over the back of her hand, over and over again.

Normally, they dealt with their time away quite well. They were independent people, who could stand a few days, even weeks, apart without too much trouble. But this was different. The worry in his eyes, the tremor in his hand, the honest regret that he couldn’t come home with her - this was something new, and scary. She pressed back against his forehead and closed her eyes.

“Of course. We probably need you here anyway,” she whispered, turning her hand to thread her fingers in his.

Bail squeezed her hand and nodded. "And we need you in Aldera," he told her. The life of a queen and a politician, he reminded himself. "I'm not sure what good I'll be able to do here, but whatever it is, I'll do it."

She hesitated before pulling her hand out of his, but she did so to cup his cheek and give him a tender kiss. “You are my most trusted advisor and confidant. I need you here because I need someone watching, listening, and searching for the hope left in this desolated galactic government.”

He smiled, albeit a little sadly, his cheek curving into the palm of her hand. "That I can absolutely do, my queen." Bail let his lips linger against hers again.

At times, Bail could make Breha forget all the tumult around them, the fear of never-ending war, the trauma and anguish of another miscarriage. He took that away, and made it possible for her to feel hope again. He would always be her source of hope. “Thank you, my dear viceroy.”

He brushed the side of his thumb against her jaw and leaned in to kiss her again. "I am going to try though," he told her, "to get home to Alderaan as soon as I can. I want to be at your side when we decide what's best for our people, in the coming days and weeks."

Breha leaned into his touch and nodded, moving her gaze back to his. “Yes, I’ll need you.”

She got up, suddenly, busying herself at the refreshment card a few feet away. At her back, the news holo continued to cover the end of the war with reports of the deaths of well-known Jedi rolling across the bottom of the projection. She’d been watching it all evening, fearing the names she’d see next. “Have you heard from anyone? Yoda? Obi-Wan?” Before joining him again on the sofa, she poured two glasses of ale and placed one of them in his hand.

He shook his head. "Nothing yet," he told her. "I'm sure it won't be long now until someone comms." Bail wanted to both stay here with his wife until she left for Alderaan and also to leave, find something he could do, something that was _useful_. Not that spending this time, the two of them reassuring one another, wasn't useful.

She sunk into the sofa and turned to him, nursing her drink. Ale wasn’t her usual fare, but Bail enjoyed it, and today called for something stronger than her usual. “Do you think it’s possible that - that you won’t hear from them?” Breha hated the question as soon as she’d asked it, but the number of Jedi dead, an entire galaxy turned against them, it was a very real possibility that not even the Masters could evade this dark turn.

He started to shake his head but stopped when he realized he couldn't give her an answer that either of them wanted to hear. He took her hand in his and laced their fingers, lifted it to kiss the inside of her wrist. "We can't think like that," Bail said.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before nodding her agreement. “You’re right. There is hope, and if they were dead, the _Emperor_ would make sure it was news.” Her disdain surprised her, as she spat out Palpatine’s self-proclaimed title.

A frustrated sound, something between a choke and a snort, erupted out of Bail without warning, and he shook his head, leaning back and bringing her in against him. "I wouldn't doubt it, but we can hope that's not the case."

She leaned into him, kissing his shoulder as she did so. “Do you know who attacked the Temple?” The trail of smoke still swirled up from its towers in the distance, and a gray haze hung over this quarter of the city.

He shuddered a little, shook his head. "No. I can't imagine anyone who would be able to cause that kind of destruction."

She sighed and finished her drink, looking over at his. “Bail, I’m very concerned that I’m drinking ale faster than you are.”

He forced a smile, a tight one. "I don't think even it would help right now."

“I don’t know. This is stronger than usual.” She soured her face and leaned forward to place her empty glass on the table. She pulled her feet up under her and scooted down to rest her head on his thigh. “What can I do to help you?”

He shook his head, threaded his fingers into her hair and leaned his head back to close his eyes, very content in the moment to be close to his wife. "I don't know," he admitted after a long moment, his voice hoarse, the words catching. "I don't know what anyone can do right now."

Breha reached back and unclipped her hair, giving him access to her braids without the hassle of the pins holding it around her head. “Well, then I suggest we just enjoy a moment of quiet.”

"I would like that," he said quietly. He worked his fingers into the ties closing her braids and began loosening the hair, a ritual that the two of them had over the years that they rarely kept up with since they lived apart more often than not.

Breha closed her eyes and focused only on the movement of Bail’s hands. His gentle touch gave her waves of goosebumps and relaxed her better than any massage or meditation session. When they were first married, a short time where he actually spent considerable time on Alderaan, they did this every night. Now it was a rare treat she relished. “Me, too,” she said, barely above a whisper.

He let the side of his thumb slip along the back of her neck. She was warm, heavy across her lap, his wife. "Perfect," he breathed out. "Just perfect."

A moan slipped out in response, her hand occupied by gently rubbing his knee. After a moment she turned to look up at him, reaching up to brush a hand across his jaw. “I love you.”

"I love you too, B," he whispered.

Breha shifted to lean up and kiss him again, her hair falling over her back into his lap. Her hand brushed away from his jaw over his shoulder as she deepened it, letting the pain and fear of the last few hours wash away, even if just for a moment.


End file.
